Day Twelve- "The Working Poor"

My mother told me, when I began my life as an independent woman, that I was the perfect example of the working poor. I asked her what she meant by this and she told me that no matter how hard you work and how much money you make, unless you set aside money you will always be living from pay check to pay check. I hate that she knew exactly where I was at in life.

My mother has always been a perceptive individual. As much as I hate to admit it, she's one of the three people who fully understands me. And I didn't want to admit that she was right. But... well.

I have never had more than a couple cents in my bank account when the first week after payday rolls around. I begin to get desperate: gas, food and other necessities become precious commodities and my ego plummets to my gut, proceeding to fall out my ass.

Yesterday was one of the worst days yet. My gas light turned on as I went to work. A. called me to pick him up from work, once I got home. In a desperate attempt to make it to A., I faked crocodile tears so a very large black man would spare $5.00 for gas. Once I picked him up, my summer tires began to loosen. I texted my best friend for someone besides A. to  talk to, but she didn't answer. Sunglasses did a poor job at hiding my tears of frustration and no matter how I tried to hide them, A. caught sight of them.

Once we got home, he made me tea and just held me. He proceeded to tell me how much he loved me and how we would keep each other afloat. I suppose he meant well. As much as I wished his words would bring me comfort, they made me feel even weaker. Staying afloat didn't sound stable to me. My life itself isn't stable I suppose.

I think at that point, I didn't even have to tell him my "crocodile tears" were 100% genuine.

When I got home that night, I walked past my roomate and her boyfriend, bid them goodnight and crawled under the covers, clothes and all. Cacooning myself in my sheets, I began to sob into my pillow. Why did everything bad have to happen at once?

Please, dear reader, don't mistake me.  I don't want you to think I ask for pity. And my situation may not even seem that bad to some of you that have gone through worse. A factor in all situations however is that sinking feeling of hopelessness.

What I do want to try and convey to you is that you are human. Shit happens. But no matter how frustrated you get, remember it could be worse. Surround yourself with people who love you. Drink some tea. Smoke a cigarette. Just let go, relax and keep your head up.

Or listen to Bob Marley ;)